


Somebody’s Angel

by sunstarunicorn



Series: Magical Flashpoint Side Stories [20]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Flashpoint (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: 3rd Annual Team One Christmas, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 08:04:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17158316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: Christmas time has come ‘round again, but this year, Team One’s been running flat out, dealing with a rash of hot calls and dangerous warrants.  As the ‘best time of the year’ turns into its polar opposite, can Team One reclaim the light of Christmas and give joy and hope back to those who don’t have a Christmas to look forward to?  A Magical Flashpoint Side Story





	Somebody’s Angel

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the Magical Flashpoint Side Story series. It follows "Magical Heritage" and comes before "Be Strong and Very Courageous".
> 
> Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_ , _Harry Potter_ , _Narnia_ , or _Merlin_. Nor do I own Mandisa's song 'Somebody's Angel'.

Reluctantly, Ed clicked his phone off, clenching his hand around the device as he steadied his breathing and expression.  The intellectual part of his mind told him the three men he’d just been told about were lucky to be alive, never mind out of jail this soon after two of them had taken a man hostage – the businessman they blamed for their dire financial straits – and the third had tried to light himself on fire – on national television.

But that didn’t help when Ed knew for a _fact_ that Joel Graves had moved on with his life, completely reneging on his promise to make things right for the three desperate men, leaving them – and Wilkes’ family – homeless and broke.  No hope, no future.  It was a bitter blow and even sourer pill to swallow for the team leader; he knew darn good and well that the three former subjects were looking at a lonely, desolate Christmas.

With a sigh, Ed pushed himself up off the bench, leaning his forehead against his locker for a brief moment, enjoying the last dredges of his respite.  He loved his job, but the constant ‘go, go, go’ of the past few days was fast wearing the team leader down.  Warrants, hot calls, road-rage drivers…it never ended and his team had barely had a spare moment to even wolf down their lunches.

It was supposed to be Christmas time, but he’d had to just ask Sophie for a list of what she wanted rather than hunt down her gift himself; even off-shift, he was just too exhausted and worn out to brave the crowds of Christmas shoppers, not to mention half-afraid some idiot would choose the store _he_ was in to pull yet _another_ hostage scenario.

Then the alarm went off and the sniper was back on the job, ready to roll out and help people who didn’t seem to realize – or care – that _Christmas_ was coming.

_So much for the best time of the year._

_They say this is the best time of the year_  
_And for most of us that's probably how it feels_  
 _But what about the ones left alone_  
 _And all the people hurting,_  
 _Looking for a glimpse of hope_

“What was your phone call about, Eddie?”

Ed glanced over at his boss and hiked a brow.  “What call, Boss?”

But Greg Parker wasn’t so easily deterred.  With a chiding, ‘don’t hide things from me’ smile, he replied, “The one you got before the callout.”

The constable shrugged.  “Nothing to worry about, Greg.”

“Ah.  So you _haven’t_ heard that Wilkes, Bauman, and Matthews just got released.”

Busted, Ed let his shoulders slump.

Greg nodded as if his team leader had spoken.  “Ed, our job doesn’t stop after we put the cuffs on,” he reminded his friend.  “And that situation could’ve been avoided.”

Ed stalked away, cutting his friend off when he slammed his open palm against his open locker door; the locker door let out a loud _clang_ as it bounced off its frame.  “That _louse_ never did a thing,” he snarled angrily.  “Got up on camera, said all the right things, then went right back to business as usual.”

“How bad?”

Blue eyes closed, their owner bowing his head instead of looking at his boss.  “Even with legal aid, they’re even more broke then they were and all of ‘em are homeless.  From what my guy said, Wilkes’ family is still staying with her parents; otherwise _they’d_ be homeless too.”  Ed swallowed hard, but shook his head in a dismissive gesture.  “Greg, forget it.  It’s Christmas, don’t let me ruin it.  I’ll get over it.”

Parker gave his subordinate a tolerant look.  “It is Christmas,” he agreed.  “See if they have someplace to go.”

Ed’s expression of pure shock was worth every last misgiving the Sergeant refused to show.

_We could be that shining light_  
_To show the heart of Christmas time_  
 _People need love_  
 _And we all are able_  
 _So take some time and start today_  
 _To give some joy and hope away_  
 _‘Cause you might be_  
 _You might be_  
 _Somebody’s angel_

Wordy went with Ed to deliver the invitations; he and Shelley were hosting their teammates for the Christmas party again and Shelley had been less than pleased to find out Sarge was inviting three former subjects to the party.  Sarge had immediately offered to make other arrangements, but Shelley, after thinking the matter over, turned him down.  Of course, she’d then cast her husband a _Look_ , making it clear he was expected to lay down the law to the three invitees, an expectation Wordy had absolutely no problems with.

The two officers found their targets poring over a newspaper at a park picnic table, taking turns with the help wanted ads in the back.  “I hear they offer free Wi-Fi access at the library,” Ed drawled, smirking just a touch as the three men jumped and looked up, all of them adopting ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ expressions at the sight of two uniformed cops.

“I bet they’d let you use the computers to post your resumes on a few job boards, too,” Wordy agreed, though he nudged his friend in a silent order to stop baiting the now terrified men.

“Warmer in there, too,” Ed concluded, brushing a heap of snow off the bench before he dropped down onto the frozen wood.

Lorne Wilkes was the first to get his tongue working again.  Hesitantly, he asked, “Can we help you, officers?”  His voice was as meek and harmless as he could make it – a man more interested in keeping his head down than anything else.  His friends looked just as eager for Ed and Wordy to go somewhere, _anywhere_ , else.

Naturally, that was when Ed revealed what he and Wordy had been hiding: a cardboard tray packed with tall cups of hot coffee generously topped with cinnamon and whipped cream.  Wordy passed out the coffee, watching Bauman’s and Matthews’ eyes go wide with surprise and shock as they tentatively took the piping hot peace offerings.

_We run and run_  
_We fill our schedules up_  
 _The gifts, the rush_  
 _Consume us all so much_  
 _Salvation Army Santa’s ringing his bell_  
 _Giving us a little reminder_  
 _There's a world that needs our help_

Wilkes nearly spat his coffee out when Ed made the offer; as it was, he half-choked and Brian Bauman helpfully pounded him on the back until he recovered.  The SRU cops pretended not to notice that Lorne’s tears were more shock and gratitude than pain.  Stan Matthews watched the cops even more warily than his friends did; it was clear he still held a bit of a grudge over Team One’s successful takedown before he could get his lighter working.  Wordy made a mental note to keep an even closer eye on the elder man than his younger compatriots – _they_ were just desperate; Matthews was probably still suicidal.

Then Matthews grumbled, “We don’t need pity,” and Wordy realized he’d misread the situation; the man was _embarrassed_ – and possibly even a bit ashamed that he _needed_ help at all.

“You think you’re the only one who’s had a bad year?” Ed retorted at once.  “Every shift we’ve had guys who don’t care that it’s Christmas, don’t care that they’re hurting families, and don’t care if they drop a few hostages if that means they can get away from the cops.”

Wordy suppressed a shudder, knowing _exactly_ what his friend was referring to; they’d just been lucky that the subject on that call was such a spectacularly bad shot – somehow, he’d _missed_ anything vital when he’d shot a ten-year-old boy in the chest.  Last they’d heard, the kid had pulled through the surgeries and was going to be just fine, but the _look_ in Sam’s eyes when he reached the small, bloody body…  Wordy cut the thoughts off and focused back on the conversation.

“This isn’t pity,” Ed was saying, a fierce look in his eyes that _dared_ the three ex-subjects to argue the point.  “This is trying to do the right thing.”

“Give your kids a good Christmas,” Wordy added quietly.

Lorne’s shame was crystal clear and he ducked his head to hide the tears.

In the end, Wordy didn’t have the heart to ‘warn’ the three men about acting up – somehow, he had a feeling the biggest problem would be getting them in the door.

_We could be that shining light_  
_To show the heart of Christmas time_  
 _People need love_  
 _And we all are able_  
 _So take some time and start today_  
 _To give some joy and hope away_  
 _‘Cause you might be_  
 _You might be_  
 _Somebody’s angel_

Two sets of eyes went wide when they took in the Wordsworths’ Christmas decorations and the already loaded snack table; the children’s eyes went even wider when Team One’s kids swept them up in the pre Christmas dinner hustle and bustle, wrangling Lorne’s daughter into helping Alanna set the tables – both adults’ and kids’ – while the young son somehow ended up sneaking cookies with little Ally, only to be caught and scolded by Shelley for eating cookies right off the hot baking pan.

Lorne’s wife quickly found common ground with Sophie, the two women cheerfully trading both baking and laundry tips before they joined forces with Shelley to bully the men – and teenagers – out of the kitchen.

Thus banished, Ed opened up with a cautious inquiry about potential job prospects while Spike and Lou cornered Bauman to get his take on the latest online craze over crypto-currency, chattering too fast for the startled man to follow and changing their opinions almost as fast.  After a minute, Bauman smirked and started giving it right back to the two geeks.  Greg forged through a part-grateful, part-snarky give and take with Stan Matthews, doing his best to gauge and help the still grieving, near suicidal man.

In the background, Sam and Jules crept back and forth, surreptitiously adding a few more gifts under the tree; Wordy kept a weather eye out, using hand signals to keep his team leader and Sergeant apprised of their progress.  The constable signaled all-clear just as Shelley appeared to announce that dinner was ready; the couple traded devious smirks behind their guests’ backs.

Said guests nearly baulked when they saw the loaded tables, but Team One refused to let them, nudging them towards the central seats and making no bones about passing the food platters from person to person, pretending not to notice just how hungry the ex-subjects were; the three men, once seated, attacked the food as if they hadn’t had a good meal in _weeks_.  Partway through the meal, Lorne’s wife laid her head on her husband’s shoulder and, aside from a swift, smug look between the Wordsworths, the cops and their families simply acted as if Wilkes just had a bit of dust in his eyes.  That had to be it; after all, men don’t cry.

_This Christmas_  
_Don’t miss it_  
 _The chance to love someone right where they are_  
 _Don’t miss it_  
 _Don’t miss it_

The Wilkes children were astounded all over when Lilly and Ally brought them their gifts; after a hesitant look at their parents, they opened the squat, shoebox-sized packages to find pencils, crayons, a little notebook, and other supplies.  Each box also had two toys, large enough to be cuddled, but small enough to be travel-friendly.  The children practically curled around their new toys, clutching them with a desperate, possessive air as they sorted through the other boxed goodies with their free hands.

The adults’ gifts were equally simple and practical: warm winter coats for the three men and a cashmere sweater for Lorne’s wife, thick enough to keep out the cold, but slim enough to go under almost any coat if need be.  Tucked in the inside pocket of each coat was a letter with a business card stapled to it: contact information for a well-known local bank.

Ordinarily, the bank wouldn’t have given the three homeless ex-cons the time of day, but this particular bank had a long, established relationship with _another_ bank – and _that_ bank had discretely _requested_ leniency towards the jobless, homeless former subjects.  And so, as a favor to their patron bank, the small, quietly elite bank would give the unconventional family a push towards a fresh start.  Advice for the future, a bit of string-pulling to help the three men find jobs, and even generously financed mortgages once the ex-cons made enough money to house-hunt.

Ironically, what Greg had anticipated, even _expected_ , would cost his _nipotes_ a good chunk of influence in their business dealings with the goblins would, in time, see the pair respected as shrewd investors in one of the most valuable currencies goblins dealt with: customers.  While goblins saw gold and other material wealth as superior, they respected gold spent with an eye towards future returns – even if those returns were less _material_ in nature.  The three techie men could never directly interact with Gringotts, but the value they would, in time, bring to their partner bank was great indeed.

_We could be that shining light_  
_To show the heart of Christmas time_  
 _People need love_  
 _And we all are able_  
 _So take some time and start today_  
 _To give some joy and hope away_  
 _‘Cause you might be_  
 _You might be_  
 _Somebody’s angel_

Greg Parker quietly nudged Stan Matthews away from the main gathering as the party began to wind down.  Wordy’s quiet observations coupled with Greg’s own had led the negotiator to a few conclusions he rather disliked.  First of all, Matthews _wasn’t_ suicidal – certainly a positive sign – but he was still so close that it wouldn’t take much to tip him back into that state of mind.  Second of all, Stan was still grieving his late wife, not a bad thing in and of itself, but perhaps just enough to push the man over the edge.  And third, the grieving man had nothing anchoring him or – more _accurately_ – was refusing to _acknowledge_ his anchors.

Greg knew from his own experience in the Netherworld just how important and crucial anchors could be, though he rather doubted Stan would ever go through anything like he had.  Still, Stan _did_ have anchors, if only he would open his eyes and _see_ them.  So the negotiator carefully shifted his position until Stan was looking at him – and his friends over Greg’s shoulder.  “I won’t ask how you’re doing,” the Sergeant began bluntly.  “That would be an insult given recent events.  But I will ask what you intend to do now.”

“None of your business,” Stan flared, his fists clenching.

He was angry.  Good.  “Maybe not,” Greg granted.  “But it looks to me like you’re missing what’s right in front of you.  And if you keep _on_ missing what’s in front of you, you’re going to _lose_ it.”  The negotiator paused, then lowered his voice, forcing the other man to lean forward to hear him.  “ _That_ would be the real tragedy, Stan.  Because what’s in front of you is one of the most valuable things in the world.”

“What’s that?”  The gruff man’s expression was bewildered, lost.

“Family.”  Parker forced his smile down when Stan’s face turned even more lost and confused.  “Not what you lost,” the negotiator conceded, “and you’re always going to miss your wife, but you’re not alone, Stan.  You’ve got two great friends who went through almost all of the same things _you_ did – they need you, just as much as you need them – and two kids who already see you as a grandfather.  Grab onto them, Stan, and don’t let go.  They won’t let go of you.”

“And what do _you_ know about it?” Matthews demanded, blustering to hide his churning emotions, but Greg could read him like an open book – because, once upon a time, he’d been in the other man’s shoes.

So Greg deliberately turned, trailing his eyes to his _nipotes_ and waiting until Stan was looking towards them too.  “They’re _my_ second chance,” the Sergeant whispered, just loud enough for his former subject to hear.

_‘Cause you might be, somebody’s_  
_Christmas angel_  
 _Somebody’s Christmas angel_

A hand came down on Matthews’ shoulder; he jumped, Greg didn’t.  “We’re going to get through this,” Brian murmured, his words for Stan’s ears alone, though Parker couldn’t help but overhear.  The negotiator turned away, giving the pair privacy as Stan finally hit the end of his rope and leaned into his friend, not crying, but still letting the agony and sorrow he’d been bottling up out.

As Greg left the corner, he spied Lorne looking around and caught the man’s eye, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Matthews and Bauman.  A faint smile pulled at the Sergeant’s jaw as Lorne hurried towards his friends, concern blazing.  Spike and Ed traded looks with their boss as he joined them.  “They gonna be okay, Greg?” Ed questioned.

“I think they are, Eddie,” Greg decided.  “They’ve got a long road ahead of them, but they’ll get there.”

“Good,” the team leader decided, then he smirked.  “Now come on, the wives wants a Christmas picture of us.”

“Everyone?”  That was going to be a rather crowded photo.

“Nah, just Team One,” Ed drawled, giving his boss a shrug.  “Soph and Shel said we could do everyone next Christmas; they want a good Team One shot for all of us to have this year.”

“Copy that, Eddie,” Greg acknowledged, moving to follow his team leader.  But before he left the room, he glanced over his shoulder at the three friends, finally talking and grieving together for what they’d lost, and nodded approval.

 

_~Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> While we know from the dialogue in "Business as Usual" that Lorne has two children, we only see a brief glimpse of his son and never find out if his other child is a girl or a boy. So, I decided to give him an older daughter.
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoyed a brief 'what-if' look at the aftermath of a heartbreaking episode. No, no one died (in the episode at any rate), but that episode really highlighted the lives that can be hurt by those who focus exclusively on 'the bottom line' and the lengths even honest, hard-working people can go to when they're pushed beyond their limits.


End file.
